Starting Line

The Methadones

Trying to fit within the usual shit
But i feel like a square peg in the round hole
In a road construction site
I'm wound up way too tight
Is my beloved city turning on me?

So what if i've fallen behind
Behind the starting line
Because its already over-now

In a morning commute/ a jet roars overhead
That just took off from the runway at o'hare
Caught in a sea of clock punchers just like me
And i feel like i'm getting nowhere

I'm starting to feel/ a tight grip at the wheel
Two lanes merging but they won't let me in
And keeping with tradition releasing co2 emissions
The heavens are burning
But how else can i get by?

It's over now...